


Captain Concerned

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, and a tiny bit you could maybe call angst, and lots of stony, fluff that turns into smut, tony doesn't want to sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony can't help it ... he doesn't want to sleep, not now, not ever. At least, not as long as he has the nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Concerned

Tony was falling.

The missile had flown toward the army's base and blown up the whole thing. He'd done it; New York was saved.

His heart, however, was racing with dread. What was going to happen to him now? Pepper hadn't picked up her phone, and he knew that Natasha was ready to close the portal, and his suit was pretty much dead.

This feeling, the one that bit him to his bones and made his hands shake inside the metal gloves that had never felt so heavy, was called desperation. He'd only ever felt it a few times before, and at this rate, he would never feel it – or any other emotion – ever again.

He could feel a second disturbance in the air. The portal was closing, leaving him at the opposite end of space, unable to return to New York, Pepper, the Avengers who he'd grown to hate slightly less. All of it was lost to him forever.

Yes, Tony was falling towards the tear in the sky, but he was too late, he was going to be too late, he was going to die here in a dead hunk of metal that couldn't give him enough air to breathe here. He was going to asphxyate from lack of oxygen. 

He was falling, he was dying, he was going to die –

He was sitting up in his swivel chair in his workshop, his heart racing faster than ever before, mercifully alive but so goddamn tired.

So, so tired, but he couldn't sleep, this was what happened whenever he slept, and that couldn't be allowed to happen. He couldn't relive these moments time and time again, because one of these times it might be for real and he might die, and as little sense as that made, it was pure logic to his sleep-deprived genius's mind.

Tony stood up, his legs not wanting to support him but doing the job fairly well, and grabbed his half-empty cup of lukewarm coffee. The caffiene woke him up the tiniest bit, just enough for him to make his way over to his worktable where his latest project sat, mostly finished where he'd left it when he'd moved over to the chair for … what purpose? He didn't even know how long he'd been asleep that time. Not long, that was for sure.

Ugh. So tired … couldn't sleep. This was torture in its most refined form, there was no doubt about that.

He fumbled to pick up the small item and took another swig of coffee. What was this?

Oh, right. He was making a robotic window. He couldn't remember why. This was the control box or something.

Tony's fevered mind couldn't recall what he'd been improving there, anyway. It looked finished enough to him. He picked up the window frame he'd been working on and had Dummy attach the controls for him with a blowtorch, fitting them into a perfect cavity. He could make it look pretty some other time.

“All right, then. Open,” he managed.

Indeed, the window slid open. It closed on command as well. It seemed to be working fine.

But where had the window come from in the first place?

Tony slumped down in his chair again and continued to vaguely order the window around for lack of other motivation to stay awake. He fought to keep his eyes open, took another drink of coffee, sweet coffee, nectar of the gods, even with no sugar and cream whatsoever...

“JARVIS! Make me more coffee.”

“Yes, sir.” The coffeemaker began whirring away. “Sir, has it occurred to you that you've slept approximately one hour in the past week?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, coffee.” He calculated quickly that he'd only slept about five minutes this time. Good. Maybe someday he wouldn't need sleep anyway. That would be merciful.

“Sir, sleep deprivation can be hazardous to your health –”

“I quite honestly cannot bring myself to give a single solitary fuck. I'd rather die than, um, dream about dying. Actual dying might be easier at this point.”

“Sir, suicide is completely uncalled for, and while I must obey your every command, I am expressly forbidden to harm any of the Avengers or their allies. Sir, you are an Avenger, therefore I must insist that you go to sleep.”

“Relax, I'm not suicidal. I just don't want to go to sleep.” The coffeemaker was done, so he trudged over and filled up his dirty mug, and chugged the life-giving brew. So, so good, perfectly black, like his soul, a thought that made him start laughing, doubling over in laughter, because that was just so damn funny, black like his soul –

There was a knock on the glass door. “Tony?” the voice asked.

Tony glared over at Captain Concerned himself who was looking at him in a very concerned way, which concered Tony because no one was supposed to be concerned about him and why was everybody so concerned anyway he didn't care about anybody and nobody cared about him. He also happened to notice that said captain was wearing sort-of pajamas, like sweatpants and a white T-shirt and didn't he know those were transparent and holy shit muscles. And that was kind of funny because Tony was wearing sweatpants and one of his grimy old tank tops, which was his combination sleepwear and workshop uniform.

JARVIS added, “May I allow Captain Rogers to enter, sir?”

“No,” Tony insisted, maybe a little too quickly. “No, no, keep him out, he'll just tell me to sleep too.” If he intended to sleep, it would never, never be because Steve or JARVIS or any other intelligent being.

However, Steve knocked again. “Stark! Open the door!”

Tony absolutely refused to take orders from anyone, even a captain, he wasn't even in the military anyway, so he just went back to his window and wondered how he could improve it and where he took it from in the first place.

Steve stepped through an empty pane in the glass wall. “Tony! What are you doing?”

Oh. That was where it had come from. “Leave,” he insisted. “I don't want to have a conversation about feelings and self-preservation.”

“I'm not going anywhere until you agree to sleep.”

“You're too stubborn. Talk to the window.”

“Um. Hi, window.” Steve gave an awkward wave that was just way too cute because he had no idea what he was doing as far as Tony could tell – well, how often did you get to talk to a window?

The window opened a little and closed again by way of greeting and whirred happily.

“Is this what the genius behind Stark Industries really does in his spare time? He puts artificial intelligence in windows?” It was astonishing how cynical Mr. United States himself could be when he was dealing with a far more cynical Tony Stark.

“It was annoying me. Do you know how annoying it is when Pepper opens the window to let in fresh air because apparently your blowtorch smells and so do you because you've forgotten to shower again because science and you have to walk all the way across the room to close it? I fixed the problem.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Tony. Sleep. Now.”

“Don't want to.”

“Yes, you do. Have you even eaten anything lately?”

Tony was offended. “Of course. I've had lots and lots of coffee. Coffee is good. It keeps me awake.”

“You've barely slept in a week. Coffee can't sustain you forever.”

Tony groaned. “You and JARVIS should get together sometime. You think my coffee is bad, you both want to make me sleep against my will, and he thinks I'm suicidal. This is just fucking perfect.” He paused. “And yes, it can.”

“Suicidal?” There was Captain Concerned's famous Concerned Face again and that was funny, too, but Tony didn't laugh this time.

Tony shrugged. “Apparently he thinks that my nightmares are just too damn much for me to handle.” And they were, but he wasn't about to aggravate Captain Concerned's concerned trigger.

Steve visibly relaxed. “That's what this is about? Nightmares?”

“Yeah, whatever, they're not a big deal.” Just completely unbearable, that was all.

“Come on, Tony.” Steve held out a concerned hand and hands couldn't look concerned anyway but Tony just decided to protest:

“What? What do you mean? If I leave, then everybody's just going to tell me to sleep. That's why I had JARVIS install a coffeemaker down here. Sleep is for the weak.”

“You're leaving your workshop. It's not an option.”

“Yes it goddamn is, and I am Anthony Edward Stark and I am a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and I refuse to leave my cave of inventions and intelligent windows.”

That, of course, didn't prevent Steve in the slightest from just picking Tony up and slinging him over his shoulder and carrying him out of the room, just like Tony had always wanted his dad to do but Howard was always too busy with science. Just like Tony was now. He resented that.

“No! I use the authority vested in me by my own brilliant mind to order you to put me down! I'm not going to sleep!” But Captain Concerned was sort of a calming influence on him and that was not helping anything here.

His protests had absolutely no effect on Steve except to make him smile a little, and Tony soon enough found himself carried upstairs and into Steve's room, where he was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed.

“Are you taking advantage of my weakened state to force me to have sex with you? Because that's kind of kinky.”

Steve blushed and he was kind of cute like that and said, “No, I'm forcing you to fall asleep.” And he laid down beside Tony and pulled the covers up over them.

Tony sighed. “This is stupid. You can't make me sleep.” He, of course, said this while his eyelids were drooping shut and he was pretty fucking lame at arguing when he was sleep-deprived.

Steve just inched a little closer and awkwardly hugged Tony and Steve was really warm and solid and it was kind of nice to be sleeping next to somebody else and before Tony knew it he was in a sort of blissful nothingness that he was not going to admit was dreamless sleep.

And when Tony finally woke up, it was to Steve still holding him and still fast asleep.

He knew one thing for sure: it was about time to do something about his secret crush on Steve Rogers that he'd been harboring and letting fester since he was about thirteen.

Tony tried to roll over so he was facing Steve instead of being the little spoon (and it was kind of nice, being the little spoon for once), but he wasn't nearly subtle enough.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Steve said with a little smile. “Any nightmares?”

“Not a single one,” Tony admitted, and it was only by a sort of default that he had to kiss Steve right about then.

And maybe Steve was a little surprised, but he was kissing Tony back soon enough and his hands, his hands, they were everywhere – 

Steve then got on top of Tony, his hips grinding slightly. Their bodies molded together, not allowing any space between them. Tony slightly tugged at Steve's tight white t-shirt, giving him red love marks on his neck.

Steve suddenly sat up, continuing to grind on their now rock hard iron rods. Smirking down at Tony, Steve slowly took off his shirt, flexing his muscles purposely. Tony let out a deep and husky groan of frustration. Finally, when his shirt was off, Tony flipped the man on top of him over. Now on top, Tony ran his cool hands down Steve's muscular chest, and they lightly traced the outline of his abs.

"I guess I've got one thing to thank my dad for," Tony muttered into Steve's mouth, his fingers inching lower and lower to the waistband of Steve's tautly stretched boxers. "If not for his serum, you never would've lived after being frozen ... and you wouldn't be a thing like this."

Steve just kind of groaned adorably – was that even possible? – onto Steve's lips. "As long as it makes you happy," he murmured.

Tony was still on top, straddling Steve, whose back was pressed up against the wall, and they were still kissing like it was the end of the world.

Steve's hands tried to find their way to Tony's waist, but they were pinned back against the wall. “Keep them there,” Tony murmured huskily. Naturally, Steve complied.

Slowly, Tony slid Steve's boxers down over his hips, an inch one one side, an inch on the other, keeping eye contact the whole time. When his dick finally sprang free, Tony finally just pulled them all the way off. He ran a thin finger down the length lightly. Steve's hips bucked up into the contact, but he kept his hands on the wall. Good.

Tony kept eye contact as he made his way down so his head was level with Steve's groin. He lowered his eyes to the hot mess he'd managed to make of the all-righteous Captain America and smiled as he licked a trail up the inside of Steve's thigh, pausing once to leave his mark.

He finally had the very tip in his mouth. Tony sucked it slightly and glanced up to see Steve's knuckles tighten on where he was clutching the pillow. That was not the wall, but who gave a shit? It was close enough. 

Looking back down, Tony dipped his head down a little, feeling Steve tense up under him. Because he was determined to be an infuriating tease, just like in lots of his stupid teenage fantasies, he made sure to move as slowly as he could and swirl his tongue around Steve's hard length. 

It was hard to hold back, though, since Steve was just so satisfying and while this was kind of fun, it was pretty infuriating for Tony, too.

He'd finally managed to get all of Steve's cock in his mouth and damn, it was big, and was just kind of bobbing his head up and down. He hoped his beard wasn't too scratchy but he wasn't going to shave it for anything, not even Steve. He had some limits.

Steve, Tony noticed, was having trouble keeping his hands clenched on the pillows, but he was managing it pretty well considering the circumstances.

Tony heard Steve groan above him and that sound went straight to his groin and he knew that he wasn't going to last long at this rate, so he moved his mouth faster and faster. To his utmost pleasure, Steve was pushing back and fucking his mouth and he wasn't even gagging. (So maybe Tony had a little more experience with dicks than everyone seemed to assume.)

Steve's back finally arched up and Tony felt him come, fast and sweet, into his mouth. He was proud of the fact that he managed to catch and swallow it all.

Tony pulled his mouth away with a pop and looked up at Steve, a positively evil glint in his eyes.

“I think you need a shower,” he commented. “You're too sweaty to just go get some breakfast.”

Steve cracked a smile. “Only as long as you come in, too.”

The two of them stumbled to the bathroom, kissing and feeling each other like a couple of stupid lovesick teenagers. Tony yanked off his boxers and the water was turned on. He couldn't remember what temperature it was later.

But there wasn't a whole lot of showering at first. It was more like Steve pushing him up against the wall and their mouths were glued together by lust and months of wanting.

It was only fitting that Steve's hand made its way down to jerk him off until Tony ended up splattering all over their stomachs. “See what you did? Now I'm even more of a mess,” Steve teased.

Tony picked up the shower gel and squirted it all over Steve, who retaliated with the conditioner. After a few minutes they were both covered in various types of soaps and laughing and kissing, too; eventually, they managed to really get cleaned up.

When they made their way out to the kitchen for some breakfast, Natasha didn't even have to glance up from here cereal to mutter, “Congratulations.”

“For what?” Tony asked, pulling out a mug for his coffee. Even with enough sleep, he just really liked coffee, okay?

“For finally giving in and fucking each other's brains out.”

Clint spat his orange juice all over the table. “Whaaaat? What makes you think that?”

“Well, they both arrived at the same time, have wet hair, and are wearing Steve's clothes. They also both look like they're in a lot better moods than I've seen them in since, I don't know, never.”

“I hate living with spies,” Steve mumbled, and placed a little kiss on Tony's lips.

They both smiled and sat down while Clint gagged and Nat smirked. It was good to finally be together.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, a huge thanks to my friend Tracie (who is unfortunately not on Ao3) for supporting me in this and getting me through my first ever smut! And I'm kind of on an uploading spree today, with a bunch of older fics I wrote a while back. Also, thank you, dear readers, for pushing your way through this. Here's my tumblr (mostly Marvel stuff) if you're interested:
> 
> imnotscreaming.tumblr.com
> 
> That's about it ... just again, thank you for reading, and never stop shipping!


End file.
